


Komorebi

by sumrsilentmusic



Category: I'll Give You the Sun - Jandy Nelson
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 20:33:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5554316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumrsilentmusic/pseuds/sumrsilentmusic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Komorebi is Japanese word meaning sunlight filtering through the leaves of trees. Glimpses of Jude and Oscar's relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**i.**

“I'm not going to disrespect your mum like this, Jude.”

“She doesn't seem very angry to me. It doesn't seem like she's particularly against us. Trust me, I've felt the wrath of her ghost before.” 

He tucks a strand of her sunshine hair behind her ear, and he gives her that uneven smile, the smile that's as uneven as her heartbeat. 

“You mistook that for her being angry at you, love.”

Love. _Thumpthumpthump_ goes her heart. Love. _Thumpthump._

They were in her room. He had knocked on her window like Romeo again, and Jude thought this was it. This was going to be the night. After all, they were alone because Noah was with Brian and Dad was with Melanie and it was Valentine's Day—Night. Valentine, the patron saint of secret romances, a saint who married people when marriage was forbidden. 

And it was back to this again. His stillness. Her movement. 

They sit together on her bed, although Jude would like to do other things together in her bed. She tries again. Her fingers ghosting underneath the hem of his black T-shirt. She could feel the hairs on his stomach, and his muscles go taut at her touch. She smiles and reaches for the cold metal of his belt buckle. 

“Jude, please stop.” He's trying to make himself stone even though she can feel his muscles tremble. His hands are at his sides, clenched. “You know I don't have much impulse control.”

“Then, why aren't you doing anything? Why don't you ravish me? We're alone in a room with a bed on probably the most romantic holiday.” 

Jude tries to hide the crack, but she can't help as the word slips through her lips and plunks itself between them. _“Why?”_

“You know why.” 

“Is it because of the exclusivity thing? Commitment? Just because we have sex doesn't mean that we have to be together forever. We don't. I know that my mom thought that we should be but we're youn—” 

Suddenly, he bursts out of the stone, and his hands are framing her face. Her eyes had no choice but to meet his. 

“It's not you, Jude. Dammit, wait, wait. That didn't come out right. Trust me, you make it very, very, very hard to resist you, but you already know that. There's nothing I want more than you and only you. All the freaking time.”

Being told that she’s irresistible once in awhile doesn't hurt. 

“Think of it as penitence.” The left corner of his mouth lifts up. 

“I don't see how your penitence needs to be punishment for me too. And since when did you become so religious?” 

Then he becomes everywhere. He pushes her back into her bed, all of him lined up against her. Rib for rib, limb for limb. He kisses her roughly, pushes her head back so it dimples her colorful, quilted sheets. His hands run through her hair, up and down her sides. Everywhere everywhere. There's too much heat, and she can't take it anymore. It's her turn to be petrified. 

He eases up the moment he feels her become rigid, and the air between them erodes the rock away. 

“I didn't tell you to stop.” This time, she doesn't bother hiding the wobble in her voice. 

“Love, you and I both need the time. Clearly, there's something wrong if you tense up every time I get close to you.”

She lifts herself up and kisses him on the lips. “Not every time,” she whispers against them. 

“And I promised your mum three years. Three years clean before I lay a finger on you, and since that's clearly not going to happen—” he tightens his grip on her hip to prove his point— “I've amended it to three years clean until.” 

“Until?” Jude asks this to mess with him. 

He dips his head to kiss behind her earlobe, the part where her jaw smooths into her neck, on her pulse point. “Until we make love.” 

_Thumpthump. Thump._

She has no idea where all his self-control comes from. “For someone who claims he's very impulsive, you have an impressive amount of self-control.” 

Her words vibrates into his chest. 

“You have no fucking idea.” 

He's trailing kisses down her neck, along her collarbone, slipping the strap of her dress (named Half-Hearted because it was asymmetrical) the tiniest of millimeters away, not even close to all the way off her shoulder. She had picked this dress because she hoped that he would do exactly that. Well, maybe push the dress strap down, or that it'll slip down by itself. Because once the strap is slipped, it doesn't take much effort to slip the rest of the dress away. The fabric is silky and forgiving. 

He doesn't slide the strap down her arm. Instead, he puts it right back to where it belongs. “Besides, I'd rather not get thrown in jail again.” 

Jude rolled her eyes. “Oh for Clark Gable’s sake. Do I have to pull out law books for you to believe that it's legal?” 

In the end they compromise because that's how relationships work. They'll date. And kiss. But that's it until Jude turns eighteen. There will be no removal of clothing. (Jude points out that she's already seen him naked, but Oscar's adamant about this rule, at least for her. Which is ironic since he suggested the nude photo session the second time they'd met.) 

And there will be no sex of any kind. 

(“I'm afraid that if I start, I won't have the self-control to stop.” 

“It doesn't have to be mind-blowing and spectacular sex, Oscar. I just want to be with you.” 

“That's the whole point. I need to figure out how to be intimate with people—with you—without becoming physical. I've relied on that for far too long.”)


	2. Chapter 2

**ii.**

The first time they go on a date, a proper date to a fancy restaurant, is in March. Oscar wants to take her out on a proper date right away, right after their agreement. 

(“I want to do this properly. I want to show your mum I can be a gentleman, and that I can treat you well.” 

“Who are you trying to date here, Oscar? Me or my _mum_?”) 

Jude makes him wait. She wants a special dress for this date, and dresses don't just design and sew themselves overnight, so they end up picking a date in March, which was perfect for the dress that Jude was planning. 

It’s a flower dress because that’s the one thing in the world she didn’t give up for him. It has spaghetti straps and a sweetheart neckline that dipped just enough to show the shadow of her chest, and a little more than that if she leans over. She sews individual flowers that ombre from a pale pink down to a deep, bright rose that ends right above her knees. Full skirt that twirls when she spins. 

She wears a new lipstick she bought called Fire and Ice, which was a gorgeous red-pink that matched with the bottom tier of her flowers. And she wears red, satin-y high heels. 

“You look… brilliant.” Oscar says when he sees her after she opens the door for him to their new boat house. 

“Thank you.” She blushes under his intense gaze. “So do you.” 

And he does. Buttoned sports jacket, dress pants, white button down shirt. Forest green skinny tie tied just loose enough that a sliver of blue peeks out from the crisp collar. 

He holds out a potted plant. “For you.” 

It was an orchid that hadn’t bloomed yet. Jude had mentioned how she hated getting bouquets of flowers, not because she hates flowers, but she finds bouquets to be enormously sad. Flowers that were so beautiful, in the prime of their life, had to be cut. And gifted so that they were just left to die. She’d told him never to give her flowers. 

“Orchids remind me of you. It takes them so much time to bloom, but once they do, they become the queen of flowers.” 

She remembers that she’d once compared him to an orchid. And Sophia. Who she shouldn’t be thinking about right now. 

She invites him inside because both Noah and her dad would kill her if she didn’t--for different reasons--but she doesn’t want to be killed regardless. 

They explicitly told her that they would be waiting in the living room to see her off before she left with Oscar on her date. 

“Pleasure to see you again, Dr. Sweetwine.” Oscar pulls out the perfect English gentleman again and shakes her dad’s hand. 

“Hi Oscar!” Noah jumps up from the couch, and they do the weird handshake-fist-bump-one-armed-hug thing that guys do. 

“How’re ya doin’, mate?”

Jude rolls her eyes and goes to put the orchid by the window in her bedroom. Her room faces south, so there’s sunlight all the time. Well, most of the time, barring the fog in the morning and evenings. She finds the spray bottle and gives the plant some water. 

“I expect her to be back by 11 PM, sharp.”

“Dad!” Jude protests as she makes her way to the living room again.

“If the state requires it, then I require it too.”

“Well, technically, the state law for someone our age is 11:30,” Noah corrects.

Their dad gives him a murderous look, a look of betrayal. He clearly doesn’t understand the extent of Noah’s worship for Oscar. 

“Don’t worry, Dr. Sweetwine, I’ll have her back before 11. Safe and sound.” Oscar puts his hand on the small of her back and its heat radiates through her whole body. They all walk to the front door, where Jude takes out her fuchsia trench coat from the closet. Oscar takes the coat and helps her into it, slowly doing four gold buttons. If Noah and her dad weren’t standing _rightthere_ she would so kiss him right now. 

“Okay, so, uh.” She takes a step back from Oscar to gain some self-control. “I’ll see you later, Dad, Noah. Don’t wait up for me.”

Her dad might have mumbled something like “the hell I won’t” under his breath, but Jude had already dragged Oscar out of the house and shut the door. 

They walk down the boardwalk and into the safety of the trees, away from prying eyes of her father and Noah, before she can’t take it anymore. She stops mid-step and kisses him. She walks them forward until Oscar is pressed up against a tree. She unbuttons his jacket and runs her hands along the crisp fabric of his dress shirt, wanting to untuck it. 

Oscar brings his hands down to still hers.

She groans in frustration into his mouth and backs away from him. She’d come to expect this. 

“Aren’t you getting a case of blue balls? Isn’t that what guys get if they don’t have sex, for like, a week? It has to be at least a couple months since Brooke. Or Sophia.”

Oscar doesn’t say anything, just stares at her intensely for moments. Green and brown taking in everything in her face. The water coos behind them, the trees rustle above. The birds fill their silence. 

His eyes widen in understanding, beautiful, upturned lashes brushing against his brow bone. 

“That’s why you want to have sex. You think that’s because I’m not having sex with you, that I’m having sex with them?”

“What? No!” Jude blinked. “Are you?”

“Bloody hell, no. I would never do that to you. Or to any girl for that matter. I might not have the longest relationships, but I’m not a cheater.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“So what were you thinking?” 

Jude looks down, plays with the dirt and leaves and grass with the tip of her shoe. “Nothing. It was stupid.” 

“Tell me.” 

“No. It’s silly.” 

“I’m not in the business of being denied, you know.” He brings his mouth to her ear. Nibbles on the shell, and whispers, warm and sultry. “Please.” 

She pushes him away and glares. “You don’t play fair.” 

“Never claimed to.” 

“I’m afraid—” she can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks, so she makes the words rush out faster. “That I’ll lose you.” 

“You’re right. That _is_ silly. Why would that ever happen? And what does that have to do with us shagging or not?” 

“Because they’ve all been able to give you that.” Jude bites her lip to keep the last part from falling out, but it does anyways. “And I haven’t.” 

“Jude,” he grips her by the shoulders, both shoulders with both hands, makes sure she’s listening, “You’ve given me so much more than what they’ve given me. They gave me a grain of sand. Well, maybe more like a handful of sand. But you’ve given me the whole world. The trees, the ocean, stars, sun. Everything.”

“Except the flowers.” 

“The flowers are yours to keep, love.” 

He takes her hands, which are fiddling with her coat buttons, and puts them over his heart. Jude can feel his heartbeats, brushing up against her palms. (The heart is actually in the center of your chest. It only tilts slightly to the left.) 

“And I’ll give you all my scraps. My poor scraps that are incomparable to the world you’ve given me.” 

She kisses him again, a slow kiss with their hands between them. When they break apart, she realizes with satisfaction, that it’s her bright lipstick that stains his lips. She reaches up to wipe it off just because she can. Because whenever she wants that stain there again, she’ll just reach over and kiss him. 

“And for your information, I can take matters into my own hands. You cannot believe the water bills that G. has been paying lately. And, Jude?” His voice becomes soft and loses the teasing edge. “Every time I think of you.” 

His lips become stained again, and her smile is radiant.


End file.
